Last week we drove to Jardin d'Olivet here in Jersey for a bit of bluebell spotting.
The light was beautiful and so were the views over Bouley Bay.

Tulips, primroses, hyacinths, blossoms, magnolias, green grass, wild flowers and the like.
Because after months of gray and dead, nature just wants to look girlie and celebrate.



( a few more )

I really didn't want to, but maybe I will have to upgrade to a paid account again. Only because I want to change my username but I'm afraid you need a paid account to be able to do that. I promised myself I would never give my money to livejournal again after they implemented SEVERAL changes I really hated. The fact that now free accounts are apparently obliged to live with that disgusting, useless "snapshot" feature in every link is just a minor annoyance, but even this is starting to grate on me deeply now. Sigh.

I bought my first issue of Lula Magazine in London last year, totally by chance while browsing the independent magazines corner at Borders. I was struck by the quality of the paper and the beautiful photos and artwork inside. Lula is quite different than most fashion magazines here in Britain (I don't bother with most of them, so disconnected from my reality they are). Although there is space for advertisements and yes, they are mostly from non affordable designer brands, there's still space for some interesting articles, relevant interviews and quirky, beautiful illustrations.

( more pictures )

I wish I could have made more and better pictures, but the place was so crowded. With the pound getting cheaper, tourists are flooding into London again.

And after being told off so many times in Brazil for taking pictures of window shops or anything that was for sale (apparently it has became a BIG no-no, as many shops even had huge, unfriendly signs saying NO PICTURES glued to the wall), I couldn't bring myself to approach my subjects, in fear some disgruntled seller would beat me about the head with an antique teapot.



( etcetera )

{The green/blue vase was another charity shop find - a bit expensive, though}



{Lovely seafood risotto @ Ramson's}



{Yotsuba having fun / Ransom's water features}



{why people won't let you take pictures inside shops anymore??}



{cappuccinos making friends @ Driftwoods, Archirondel beach}



{red fruits cheesecake}



{my feet at the till and my lemon polenta cake}



{trying on new polishes at a Chanel counter / coming back home}



{crocus being transplanted into a vase}





{there are few things better than a new set of Staedtler pens!}

I bought a polaroid camera months ag,o but was never brave enough to pay a small fortune for the doomed film. Now, with the news that its production will not be discountinued after all, I think I've found an easier, cheaper way to develop vintage looking photographs. And I won't even have to ressuscitate my scanner.

A few days ago we had tea (coffee for me) outside, even if the weather wasn't amazing.
With the british weather, if you choose too much you end up doing nothing. So you just wear a coat (coloured tights for me), grab a few digestive chocolate biscuits (plain for me) and enjoy the grey skies, the dying flowers, the cold wind. All that before graciously admitting defeat and retiring to the sitting room + central heating + sky plus.











I love my bright coloured tights. I'll be surely packing them for my trip to Brazil, even though I'm not sure I'll be able to wear them there. Summer down south usually makes us want to rip our clothes apart in the middle of the streets and go naked for all we care. But after spending such a long time here where I wear dresses and tights 24/7 (I've finally come to terms with the fact that jeans doesn't really flatten my figure any longer), I don't know how I'm going to feel about baring my legs again. Awkward, probably. Cold weather has its advantages.

One Word Only Meme
Where is your mobile phone? Bag.
Where is your significant other? Bathroom.
Your hair colour? Dyed.
Your mother? Talkative.
Your father? Clever.
Your favourite thing? Camera.
Your dream last night? Bizarre.
Your dream goal? Laughs.
The room you're in? Attic.
Your hobby? Daydream.
Your fear? Returning.
Where do you want to be in 6 years? Settled.
Where were you last night? Bed.
What you're not? Snob.
One of your wish-list items? Toys.
Where you grew up? Away.
The last thing you did? Brushing.
What are you wearing? Wool.
Your TV? Off.
Your pets? Beautiful.
Your computer? Dell.
Your mood? Full.
Missing someone? Always.
Your car? Panic.
Something you're not wearing? Hat.
Favourite shop? Drugstores.
Your summer? Frustrating.
Love someone? Still.
Your favourite colour? Rainbow.
When is the last time you laughed? Today.
When is the last time you cried? Forgot.


( musical meme )

Jack O'Lantern "before". The "after" will come... after.



Got four of those chairs at the second hand store, to be painted white and used in our so-called breakfast area. The stools that came with the table are too uncomfortable and fragile. Originally this was a six chair set, and I felt awful leaving the other two behind. I wondered how long they have been together and it was almost like tearing a family apart. I know, I have issues.

My copy of A Year of Mornings made its way home last saturday.


Now they have a new challenge: A Year of Evenings. Good luck!
Inspired, I decided to take some pictures of my own saturday morning.


The weekend also included a trip to the bookstore (just for a browse, I didn't buy anything this time).


And to the cinema later one, to see Burn After Reading by the Cohen brothers. I admit I wasn't expecting much of the movie, but it's absolutely hilarious. Highly recommended if you want a laugh. Plus, there's John Malkovich. That alone is reason enough to get me to the movies.

oh when i look to the shape of my heart, it's separated only by scars that cut in and cut out
oh and leave me without a heart that functions at all.

and when i look to the shape of the sky, i give thanks for this hollow chest of mine
that i no longer feel the great weight of ordeals that can make this life so unkind

oh when the wild was all covered by snow, i forgot the colours that the grass tend to grow.
oh the trees were all leafless, and lifeless and black, and i wondered if the leaves could grow back

for your heart is like a flower as it grows, and it's the rain, not just the sun that helps it bloom,
and you don't know how it feels to be alive until you know how it feels to die

oh and if there's any love in me, don't let it show.
oh and if there's any love in me, don't let it grow.

Over the moor, take me to the moor
Dig a shallow grave
And I'll lay me down



( over to the moors )

moorland in devon, UK.
these fields are VAST. heathers proliferate in the windswept wet land, and the animals have the right to run free and graze as much as they want.

it was also on the moors (the ones in manchester) that hindley and brady (convicted of the moor murders in the first half of the 60s) buried their small victims.

Meus pés e os da Flávia. O meu tênis não é uma fofura-rosa-pink?
Mas apertei demais o cadarço num dos pés. O tecido começou a roer a pele extra fina dos meus pezinhos e tive que adentrar enlouquecida uma Marks & Spencer em Marble Arch, implorando pra comprar um par de meias com um tiozinho que só sabia me informar que "a loja está fechando, por favor SAIA". Mas papai do céu ouviu minhas preces e fez descer um anjo em forma de uma senhora redonda que me trouxe um pacote de 5 meias, me levou até o caixa, me cobrou 3 libras por ele e me deixou colocá-las sentadinha em sua cadeira. JOY. Pude andar até o metrô em paz sem chegar em casa com o pé direito pela metade.


Cabelo na cara da Flávia e água suja do Tâmisa à parte, o Relojão nunca falha. É tão maior e mais imponente ao vivo.
E ventava tanto nesse dia que nenhuma foto saiu minimamente decente. Anyway, eu não estava mesmo no mood pra tirar foto - na maior parte do tempo, deixei a câmera trancada no cofre do hotel e fui ali viver. E me empanturrar de comida japonesa no processo.

Visitei a meio irmã do British Boy. Que, por acaso, vem a ser a famosa "vovó da scooter de Surbiton" e tem até um grupo dedicado a ela no Facebook. Ela me deu tortilla españolas pra comer e o PEOR café que já tomei na vida (só de pensar agora me dá ânsia de vômito). Mas também me mostrou suas bonecas antigas e falou mal da mãe do irmão. Delícia.

( mais algumas fotos babacas )

does she scare you?



devon. i want to go to Devon.
london. i want to go to London.
on. i need to go on.

...maybe turning this thing into a photolog will save it from extinction?

i feel guilty for having a paid account here that I mostly use to browse communities.

"A lot of people can change you - the first kid who called you a name, the first teacher who said you were smart, the first person who crowned you best friend. It's the change you remember, the firsts and what they meant, not really the people. Ethan changed me, for instance, but the longer we've been apart the more he sort of recedes into the distance as a real person and in his place is a cardboard cutout that says First Boyfriend.

I'm talking about the ones who, for whatever reason, are as much a part of you as your own soul. Their place in your heart is tender; a bruise of longing, a pulse of unfinished business. My mom was right about that. Just hearing their names pushes and pulls at you in a hundred ways, and when you try to define those hundred ways, describe them even to yourself, words are useless. If you had a lifetime to talk, there would still be things left unsaid."

- Sweethearts, by Sara Zarr

i'm in hannover, now.
it's sunny outside, but cold in this room.

i survived bravely the two-and-a-half hour flight, even though the plane (a charter flight...) was full of germans behaving oddly (i am still tring to figure out why did they have to clap their hands as soon as the plane touched the ground and undo their seatbelts 10 minutes before landing) and borrowing my magazine just to put it back on the empty seat beside me 15 seconds after having asked.

i guess germans are not particularly fond of marie claire.
well, neither me. i just bought it because the coconut body butter who came as a freebie costed 5 pounds at the shop.

now i'm here trying to decide if i should go out and get myself sunblock + makeup cleanser.
oh, and a pair of gladiator sandals.
but i only have £12 on my wallet. and no euros. and no credit card that would be accepted here - yes, germans are not fond of plastic money either.
but there's lemon cake on the cupboard. things are not all that bad.

next saturday we're heading to sicily.
untill there, lots to do (he will be leaving this flat for good, so we gotta pack and clean up) and some squeezes to distribute.